


Expression

by ERNest



Category: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, Wonderland: A New Alice - Murphy/Boyd/Wildhorn
Genre: Crossdressing, Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you are telling me that in the entire history of the hyperbolic world, there has not been a single female milliner who might have gone just the tiniest bit insane.”</p><p>Hatter knows who she is, but sometimes she likes to play dress-up</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She

“ _What_ did you say?” she snaps, eyes flashing.  
“You can’t be the Mad Hatter.”  
“Ah. And _why_ , pray tell, is that?”  
“Well, _because_ ,” Here the Gerbil begins to giggle helplessly, “You’re a _girl_.”  
“I see.” She steps up onto the table and begins to pace across it, hands folded behind her back. “So, Mr. Harwoodi, you are telling me that in the entire history of the hyperbolic world, there has not been a single female milliner who might have gone just the tiniest bit insane.” She times it perfectly so that she stops right in front of him and bends over to ask in her sweetest voice, “Is that correct?”  
“Oh yes, I mean, no, I mean I suppose there could be, but none of them would head up a Tea Party. It’s just not _heard_ of.”  
“Oh, _well_ then, that means I shall be the first!” she exclaims, suddenly all laughter and light. She throws out a hand she knows He will catch. “And I _do_ so love blazing a trail, don’t you, dear?”  
“As a matter of fact,” the Hare replies, “I do.”  
The Gerbil, forgotten, takes his cup and hides under the table, listening to their evil laughter.  
After she has given him a proper tongue-lashing, Hatter gets to thinking about her place in the world. They want a man to serve them tea, so why should she not be what they expect? She’s certain that she will do a better job at showcasing her masculinity that any mere _man_ could accomplish and that’s exactly what she plans to do.

For the next week and a half she experiments with androgyny and embraces the poetry of dropped waists and too-straight lines. She does not consult with Morris first.  
Hatter knows that she cannot accomplish this transformation on her own, so she seeks help from the coolest cryptic in the land. "Well _sure_ I’ll help you, Hatter!”  
“Ha-tteeeeer!”  
“Shut up!” he says irritably, but fondly. “Trust me, I’m no stranger to gender dysphoria.”  
“It’s hardly dysphoria,” she says, stifling a giggle at the legs. “More expression, I think. I know perfectly well who I am. It’s just that sometimes I want to look like a boy.”


	2. He

Energized by the taste of mint that still lingers on his tongue he leaves behind a very successful party. It would have been even nicer if she’d been able to preside over the event. He knows she’s busy and he’s more than able to keep them in line himself.  
He’s on his way to his office, but thinks he’ll stop by her door to see if she wants to join him as he does dishes. It’s gotten to be a nice habit of theirs and sometimes she’ll come by to watch even if she’s not in the mood for people. It is gratifying to know that he is more than “people”.  
“Your Hattress, the party went without a single hitch.” He knocks briefly and doesn’t wait for an answer before he lets himself in. “I think we need to look out for the toads though; they keep getting drunk on--” He stops talking abruptly when he actually looks inside.  
There is a stranger at her desk, his legs sprawled over one arm like he owns the place. He finds that he is trembling with indignation. How dare this person just barge into her office and hang out? It’s only respect for Hatter that keeps him from dragging the man out of the chair by his collar and bloodying him up a little. It wouldn’t represent her very well to resort to violence, so he switches to the vehicle of words. “Excuse me, sir,” he falters and the hat angles slightly so he knows the intruder is listening. “Now young man, you have no right to be here. Why you think it’s acceptable to just invade another person’s private room, I have absolutely no idea, but this is utterly intolerable.” The stranger shrugs and stays silent, so he lowers his voice and tries another tack. “Do you have any idea who this woman is? She is the reason any of us are here, the paragon of pottery when it comes to tea. She is the chatter of guests arriving and the quiet when they have departed. And she’s beautiful.”  
The man shifts on this last word. “Are you new around here? If you see her, you’d know exactly what I mean, because there’s just something about her. I mean, anyone who meets her would have to want her as the Mad Hatter.” He realizes that he’s running his mouth and snaps to business. “So I’m sure you won’t mind that I’m asking you to get out of here. Naturally, you’re always welcome at the Tea Party; we wouldn’t turn anyone away. I’d even listen to an explanation, but first you need to come out into the hall with me.”  
“No, actually, I don’t think I will.” Morris immediately feels his lip curl downwards into a snarl. After all his attempts to be nice, this insolent upstart is still refusing to do the proper thing. By the sounds of it, he’s barely past boyhood and he’s pretending to be – wait a minute. The memory of that bratty phrase is flecked with mica, a way he’s only known one other person to speak. But that would be completely presumptuous of him.  
Still, this is now a mystery he has to solve or he will never be satisfied, no longer a simple quest for justice. He takes a few steps into the room for a closer look and says “So why won’t you? Explain yourself.” He gets no answer, he expected none, but he can now see enough of the cheek to know that the person in Hatter’s chair has just smiled and wants to hide it.  
The shadows that gather at cheekbones spark something in him. He breathes very carefully and walks up behind the figure. He reaches his left hand towards a tendril of hair that dangles near an ear he recognizes very well. He’s about to brush it back, so gently, when her hand strikes, curling around his wrist in a cool grip he has no inclination to break. “Took you long enough,” she murmurs lazily.  
“Sorry,” he mutters, “I was defending your honor.” She snorts a little at this. “But as soon as you spoke, I knew.”  
She nods. “Well of course you did.”  
“Hatter?” His mouth is suddenly dry. “May I…see the rest?”  
She jumps up right away and models for him. Of course she would wear tweed, he thinks, it suits her. He realizes the pun he just made and starts to laugh, but stops at the look on her face.  
“You think this is funny?” she demands and for once she looks uncertain, though he can’t imagine why.  
“Oh no,” he says reverently, “Quite the opposite, in fact. Hatter, you’re exquisite.” Her gasp of surprise punctuates his increasingly muddled brain as his eyes follow the lines of her vest. And the slimming cut – well he’s never noticed her hips quite so much. His hand is halfway to her waist when he remembers himself and snatches it back. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly and burns with shame. “I didn’t mean to.”  
She cuts him off with a Look. “You are doing nothing wrong, dear. Just headed for the wrong place, is all.” She carefully guides his hand to her shoulder. He’s never done it like this before but he thinks he likes it. She smiles at his moment of hesitation. “Now just follow my lead.”  
And by God can she lead!


End file.
